


Wayfinder

by monstersinthecosmos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Keith, Choking, Cum Eating, Forced Orgasm, Light Humiliation, M/M, Post S7, Praise Kink, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Sexting, Shiro in therapy, Slapping, Spanking, Sub Keith, Top Shiro, aka WE'RE LOVERS - NOW WHAT?, cuz allura is a good friend, disaster shiro, dom shiro, healing and stuff, it's quite soft tbh, lovemaking, oh yeah also, shiro's arm vibrates, this is sort of a friends to lovers epilogue, wow these two are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstersinthecosmos/pseuds/monstersinthecosmos
Summary: Keith is squeamish about compliments and Shiro is just trying to be romantic.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 335





	Wayfinder

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS WRITING THIS ON MY 36 HOUR JOURNEY HOME FROM MY SHIP CONTRACT and then I got home and there was a pandemic so I've been chiseling away for like a month because I've been like Pandemic!Unmotivated. Sigh! But anywhere here it is! 
> 
> Thank you so much to [@YureiYumeArt](https://twitter.com/yureiyumeart) and [@cyborgtopus](https://twitter.com/cyborgtopus) for cheering me on when I was in a slump in the middle haha. 
> 
> I named it after [Wayfinder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUlf1zLrimA) by Infinity Shred because, ngl, tbh, I have excellent taste in synthy music that lets me submerge myself in VLD vibes. LOL.

The first time they have sex, Shiro is this mess of nerves and emotion. For the first half of it he really tries—he really does, honestly—to be reverent, to go slow, to pour his adoration into every touch. Instead, it devolves into Keith leaving red scratch marks all over Shiro’s back and by the end of it he’s begging Shiro to come on his face. And like, sure. Shiro does. Anything for Keith, really.

And that’s fine.

It’s the night of their first real “date”, if you can call it that. Shiro wants to call it that. He maybe commandeered a Garrison-owned aircraft for the sake of traveling to a nice restaurant a few hundred miles away, since the ones in town are still looking pretty rough. Not to mention that they’ve been to the ones in town so many times already, doing their best to revitalize the local community.

But no, he wants it to be different, special. Keith doesn’t ask if they have permission to take the little jet, but he’s smiling when he climbs into the co-pilot seat. Shiro feels a little foolish as they take off and make the journey in under an hour—maybe next time the date should just be to joy ride. Because it’s nice, flying with him. Being free like this. It’s some version of the life he’d wanted before everything went to shit.

It’s a fancy restaurant with a tablecloth and candles and Keith kinda rolls his eyes at it. Shiro kinda does, too—this environment has never felt natural to either of them—but look. He’s trying to be romantic, okay? He and Keith have had dinner a thousand times together and now that they’re gonna try to do this… _thing_ they’re doing, he needs to make it different.

On the way there he’d kept worrying about whether it would be nice _enough_ , but once they’re inside it’s maybe _too_ nice. He just wants everything to be _good_. Keith deserves the best.

His throat keeps going dry and he drinks the wine too fast. He’s got a pleasant buzz by the time the entrees come out and he reaches to hold Keith’s hand across the table.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he says.

And it’s been hard to figure it out these last couple weeks, since they’ve opened this door. Hard to figure out where friendship ends and this other thing begins. They’ve had dinner together five nights a week for, fuck, years now? A tablecloth and wine aren’t going to magically make this deeper. But… the look on his face, his eyes glowing in the candlelight, squeezes mercilessly around Shiro’s heart.

He smiles, a little shy, opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut when the waiter places their plates down on the table. Shiro’s palm goes sweaty and he downs another glass of wine.

Keith offers to pilot them home afterwards, insists that he can, but Shiro isn’t in a rush to get back. Something tells him to keep this close for now, to be somewhere else, to keep Keith _his_. He finds them a room—nice, but not _too_ nice, because Keith will see right through it—and they have a few more drinks at the hotel bar before they head up. They’re not plastered or anything, but warm and loose, a little giggly. He can walk in a straight line but fumbles the room key when they get there. Keith pins him to the back of the door the moment they’re inside, and the way he kisses is so filthy.

They blink at each other a few minutes later when they pull away for air.

Shiro’s heart is pounding.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

Fuck, it’s terrifying.

He presses his fingertips to Keith’s jaw, brings him up to kiss again. Slow this time, gentle. He’s wanted this for such a long time and it feels monumental to have made it. He wants to savor it.

But Keith is reaching between them to unbuckle Shiro’s pants.

“Fuck me,” he breathes into the kiss, and he drops to his knees to blow Shiro right there in the entryway.

You know, it’s only natural, given how long it took Shiro to work up the courage to make a move, that he’s envisioned several hundred versions of how they’d get together. There were the wholesome, sober, daytime thoughts about it—spacing out at meetings, or watching the way Keith trained the MFE pilots. He used to think he would wait until the Perfect Time to have this mature conversation about it, to hold his hand and tell him the truth. But there were the nighttime thoughts, too. Imagining that the moment they crossed the line it would just be this catalyst, this frantic burst of physicality. He’s spent too much time jerking off about it, imagining any number of scenarios that start with a kiss and immediately escalate to fucking on the nearest available surface.

The reality is some awkward mixture of both. This acknowledged attraction between them, restrained by their existing friendship, complicated by their jobs. He thinks they’ve both been cautious about it, nervous, the last few weeks since they first kissed. They’ve stolen a few moments around the Garrison since then, and that’s it. They’ve stayed above the belt and haven’t gotten each other alone—whether or not that’s an accident, Shiro isn’t sure. But suddenly they’re drunk in a hotel room and it’s really fucking happening.

Shiro shouldn’t have been surprised that Keith would go for it like this. He’s not surprised. Because everything with them is like this, isn’t it? Shiro doesn’t necessarily crave the danger of it anymore (at least, that’s what he’s been telling his therapist), but old habits die hard or something. He supposes he knew Keith would be this way.

If Keith is as nervous as Shiro, he hides it. He glances up at Shiro from the floor, mouth full of cock, and he seems so fiery. Predatory. Shiro holds his bangs back from his face to see him better and almost comes right then and there.

“Slow down,” he says, and eases Keith away. Keith wipes his mouth on the back of his hand but he’s on his feet in an instant, kissing Shiro again and dragging him towards the bed. There’s no finesse to the way he tugs his shirt off, then fusses with his belt. He has to untangle the holster for his Blade and he takes a moment to pull lube and condoms out of his side pack to toss on the bed. Shiro stares, intimidated by the raw openness of it, at the way Keith is completely naked before Shiro even has his shirt off. It’s not even sexy, the way he does it.

Like, no. Shiro swallows. Keith is fucking hot. He just _is_ sexy. But the way he just undressed, like it was perfunctory, is so unsettling.

“Hey,” he says. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches to hold Keith by the hips. Pulls him in slowly and kisses his stomach. “Slow down.”

“Hmph,” Keith grunts from above him.

So Shiro tries, he really does. He’s trying to make it special for them both, wants to savor it, because he’d wanted it for so long. Wants to take Keith apart carefully, wants to kiss his neck while gently fingering him open, wants to rock into him slowly, wants to whisper praise against his hair. But Keith is so frantic. Rough and full of energy, like a feral animal. He’s so loud and every time Shiro wants to say something sappy, Keith cuts in with filth.

“God, fuck, please fuck me,” he whines as Shiro works in a third finger. “I’m ready, come on, don’t fucking tease me.”

“Jesus Christ, fuck, right there right there, harder, fuck—” when Shiro goes too slow.

“Fill me up with that big cock—”

“Harder, harder, _please_ —”

“Please will you come on my face—”

And what is Shiro supposed to do? He’s been trying to balance on this line, being sappy and grateful that they’re finally here while also just being painfully fucking aroused. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Keith like this—in fact, it’s a goddamn delight—but his instinct to be a gentleman is struggling to treat Keith nice, to show him how special he is.

But hey, Shiro isn’t made of stone. He gives up, he gives in.

And it’s so, so good.

* * *

It’s been a year since Keith’s accident, when the lions crashed. He tries to think of it as a good thing, to see the progress. The date creeps up on him in his planner and he’s doing his best to look at how much they’ve accomplished since then, instead of only remembering it as a trauma.

A year since Keith’s accident, which means it’s been eleven months that he’s been seeing his therapist. They’d tried to set all the Paladins up with counselors after their respective hospital stays and extended an invitation to Shiro, as well. He’s pretty sure the others don’t go as often as he does. He doesn’t think Keith goes at all.

Everything Shiro read about his diagnosis indicated that there’s supposed to be a timeline; that his condition shouldn’t require indefinite treatment. But he doesn’t see an end in sight. He wonders if what he went through is too much, if it exceeds the scope of what any one professional is equipped to deal with. He spends the first three months expecting her to throw her hands up in frustration and give up, pass him along to someone else. He dreads that moment, that he’ll be passed from doctor to doctor and no one will know what to do with his fucked up brain. It’s a little too close to how he was treated as a kid with a mysterious autoimmune disorder.

Really, he’s convinced she’ll give up because she’s here trying to patch together war veterans with PTSD and he spends half the session whining about his boy troubles.

It comes up maybe three weeks in; she points out how he talks about Keith. A lot. He tries to brush it off and blame it on the accident—he’s just worried, that’s all. It was scary. Watching Keith recover from a brain injury is fucking scary. But she sees through his bullshit.

There are months before he finally kisses Keith where she’s the only person who knows. And it’s not just him whining about his feelings in general; he’s bouncing ideas off this poor woman about how to make a move.

They spend a whole hour talking about the dinner date thing; trying to define what makes it a date. Shiro agonizes over the idea of even asking him. She tells him he’s overthinking it.

“Let’s make a list,” she says. “What are all the worst possible things that could happen if you ask Keith on a date?”

He gets frustrated and stands up to pace the room. He’s talking with his hands and can’t look at her. Aren’t they here to deal with war stuff and his nightmares and everything else? It’s stupid that he’s in here whining about guys. They should just get back to the nightmare thing.

“It’s not stupid, Shiro,” and he likes her because it doesn’t sound condescending when she says it. “This is still us dealing with the war.”

“How?”

She stares at him for a long moment like she’s trying to read him. “You’re still at war.”

He just blushes.

“You’re still approaching situations in your every day life as if they’re dire life-and-death decisions. You’re carrying all of that danger with you still. Everything isn’t dangerous. You’re safe.”

He shakes his hands out and manages to sit back down.

“We’re here to learn that you’re safe now,” she says, and when he settles down she gives a soft smile like she’s proud of him. “Now, tell me. What’s the absolute worst thing that could happen?”

Of course, listing it all out was a long way of saying: I don’t want to ruin our friendship.

“You won’t,” she says.

“You don’t even know him!”

She’d given him homework that week, asked him to stop and think about stressful decisions, and ask himself if they’re actually dangerous. He can write them down, she said, if it’ll help, but it’s mostly to learn the pattern of it, to recognize it for what it is while its happening. He’s been to war. He’s literally fucking died. He needs to learn that asking his best friend on a date isn’t life-threatening. 

(She also wants him to keep a journal by the bed to log anything he remembers about his nightmares, but that’s been his homework every week for months now.)

It’s hard, though. He works up the courage to do it but still can’t figure out how to. He begs her for clues and it all makes sense inside her office but all the logic fades away once he’s face-to-face with Keith and ready to do it. He tries to explain that to her, and maybe he’s too defensive, even though she hasn’t said anything to judge him. He feels stupid bringing it up again but she’s still the only person who knows and he doesn’t know who else to talk to about it.

He fusses with the pins on his jacket as she recites all the sound advice in her calm voice. He’s done being self-defeating now; he knows he can do this, and that he _should_. But it’s still a challenge.

“Hey, we should… get dinner,” he tries to say one night, after sparring. He immediately knows he fucked it up again. But it’s confusing. How do you say _We should get dinner sometime_ to someone you have dinner with all the fucking time? He’s so fucking lost. Keith shrugs from the mat as he puts his shoes back on.

“Yeah, sure. Mess hall in thirty? I have to shower real quick.”

“No, um. I mean, can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

Keith doesn’t seem to notice. He stands up and stretches. “Yeah, okay. Let’s see if Kosmo wants to take us. It’ll be faster.”

And dinner is such a fucking flop. The restaurant is too noisy for him to try to have an adult conversation and at some point they see Kinkade come in with Rizavi and it just totally kills the mood. The last ditch is that Shiro tries to at least pay for it, but the waitress laughs it off and tells him it’s on the house for the Black Paladin and Captain of the Atlas. He sputters at her, embarrassed and frustrated that he’s failing so hard, and Keith jokes that he would’ve ordered more booze if he’d known it was free.

He tries movies after that. The cinema in town is finally open again, and while the movie industry itself is still limping back to normalcy, they start by playing old classics. He invites Keith to one and that looks like it’s going to work, except they get sixth-wheeled by the other Paladins at the last second. Which was nice, in the end. They don’t spend a lot of time all together anymore. But he can’t really hold Keith’s hand during the film or try to kiss him in the dark without everyone squawking about it.

 _You’re overthinking this_ , his therapist had said, weeks ago, and he keeps replaying her soothing voice in his head. He clings to it and hopes it’s true. He’s overthinking it. He just needs to be patient.

Patience yields focus.

Later that week he’d flopped across his therapist’s couch for the first time (usually he liked to sit up straight in one of the stiff-backed chairs) and threw his human arm over his eyes as he spoke. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

“He’s not a battlefield, Shiro,” she says. “You’re not at war anymore.”

Right.

He keeps it together for the rest of the session but cries that night while he’s brushing his teeth before bed.

Whatever. It works out in the end, he guesses, happens when he’s finally stopped stressing about it. He hadn’t even been trying this time, and it had been Keith that suggested they go racing in the desert, like old times. Shiro is rusty from years of not practicing but Keith is as powerful as ever. He leaves Shiro in the fucking dust and he’s so pleased and amused when Shiro catches up, his eyes alight and his grin infectious.

So Shiro kisses him.

He doesn’t say anything, just stalks over to him after he parks his bike and grabs him by the face because he can’t wait anymore. He’d imagined so many versions of this moment, had tried to prepare for something realistic, something in between a fairy tale and a complete porno movie. Maybe it would’ve been too perfect to have a nice talk about it first, to get all mushy about it. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the courage. But immediately tearing each other’s clothes off is a masturbatorial fantasy and nothing else. That wouldn’t have worked, either.

Keith goes still at first, surprised, but he does kiss back after a beat. It never gets too dirty and they don’t jump into anything that night, just make out for a while. Shiro winds up pressed against the side of Keith’s bike, half-sitting in the driver seat and Keith half in his lap. Keith keeps bunching Shiro’s jacket up in his fists and when they come up for air he looks a little drunk.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Keith rasps afterwards, while they’re putting their goggles back on to go home, and Shiro’s heart breaks open.

It’s almost a month before they finally have sex. They both act sorta cagey about it and stay busy to keep it from feeling weird. They really are stretched thin, though—Shiro with meeting after meeting and Keith with his double life as a Voltron Paladin and a Blade of Marmora. Maybe that helps, though. Forces them to pace themselves.

But he finally tries the dinner thing again.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Keith says, blasé as always. Shiro grimaces.

“I mean like. A date? Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Oh, I mean. You don’t have to… do that. Bring me on dates, I mean.” He clamps his mouth shut and looks at the ground.

It feels awkward, maybe glaringly obvious that they’re best-friends-who-made-out-a-few-times and not really… boyfriends? Not really “dating” for that matter. Not literally. It feels strange trying to make this transition.

“I know that, I guess,” Shiro says. He scratches the back of his head. “It’s just, um. I want to? Bring you on a date. It’s…”

The words dry up in his mouth as Keith looks back up at him and raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say no, though, in the long run. He looks open. Curious and concerned.

“It’s just been a really long time?” Shiro tries. “Since I did anything like this? And I think it’ll… I don’t know.”

“What?” Keith begins to reach out and hesitates, draws his hand back towards himself for a quick moment before steeling himself and going all the way. Their fingers intertwine and he looks into Shiro’s face.

“I think it’ll help?” He winces at how unsure of himself he sounds, even to his own ears. “To feel normal again. So. I want to. I want to take you on a date.”

Keith’s smile makes Shiro want to cry.

“Yeah. Of course you can.”

* * *

He’s still at war. She was right about that part. He thinks Keith is, too, but doesn’t know if he should say anything.

The sex is great, that part works. They’re compatible with each other in a way that was a pleasant surprise. Shiro likes it rough and he’s been known to get kinky with the right people, and there’s a certain lack of shame with Keith that just feeds into the chemistry of it all.

Still, sometimes it feels panicked. Keith fucks like they’re on borrowed time, like they’re still in the castle, like they might need to be in the Lions at any second. Shiro hasn’t had the balls yet to ask Keith about his sexual history; not in a jealous kinda way, mostly just curious what blueprint was formed here. He assumes Keith never had sex in the castle, but maybe he did with the Blades? Or maybe it’s a symptom of never having his own bedroom as a teenager? Going from a group home into the Garrison dorms could’ve taught him how to be quick and discreet.

Well, maybe not too discreet, unless that’s just the rebel in him. He’s way too fucking loud.

It still isn’t bad, though. It’s not like he rushes through the sex or anything. They manage some pretty incredible sessions. It’s just that he’s rough. He moves like he’s in a hurry, even though it gets dragged out and out and out. He acts frantic but he likes being teased, Shiro has learned that much.

But practicing mindfulness makes him wonder if Keith is dealing with the same bullshit that he’s working through himself. The sudden change in their relationship, the newness of it, makes Shiro afraid to ask about it. But he thinks Keith is still at war, too, in his own way.

She uses the phrase “at war” often and they both know it’s a figure of speech. As much as it literally means _the war_ , she also uses it to encompass everything else. His captivity, his illness. All of it has been a war, his whole goddamn life has been a war. And he wonders if the same applies to Keith. The war for Keith is also the loss of his parents, his fucked up childhood. He doesn’t like to talk about it too much but Shiro knows enough. It would explain a lot.

Just a week ago Shiro was above him, gently pushing his sweaty bangs away to look him in the eyes, and he could feel the words in his mouth. He was ready to say them. _Fuck, you’re beautiful_ , he almost whispered, but Keith scowled in impatience before he could get it out. He’d shoved Shiro on the chest and rolled him in some weird sex-grappling move to get him on his back, then rode him frantically until it was over with. He’d tilted his head back, exposed the contours of his throat, stared up at the ceiling as he’d done it. And Shiro had dug his fingers into Keith’s hips, chased it anyway, forgot that he’d been trying to be sweet because this was okay, too.

His therapist says that his relationship isn’t going to be a cure-all. He’ll still need to do the work and give himself time to heal. Sleeping with someone isn’t going to chase away nightmares. It won’t erase everything that’s happened to him.

Shiro’s trying, really. He’s doing everything he can. She says he’s doing a great job, even when he feels like he’s just treading water. At least she sees the progress, even when he doesn’t.

She keeps telling him that it takes time, so he figures Keith needs time, too. He just needs to be patient, and he tells himself that he can be patient for both of them.

Patience yields focus, after all.

* * *

They’re kissing at Shiro’s desk one afternoon, Keith straddling him in his office chair, when Shiro can’t take the ambiguity anymore.

“Baby,” he says softly, and pets Keith’s hair away from his face. He cups him around the jaw and holds him away to get a good look. Keith licks his lips and stares at Shiro’s mouth. “Slow down.”

“Why?”

He leans into Shiro again, bites at his bottom lip. He rolls his hips and his hard cock presses into Shiro’s stomach through their clothes. Shiro laughs into his mouth.

“I’m trying to be romantic here!”

Keith grumbles a noise and reaches for Shiro’s belt buckle. The lust floods through Shiro’s body, enough that he almost gives up, but he shakes it off at the last second and grabs Keith by the wrist.

“Wait, wait,” he pants. He leans back in his chair and Keith’s weight settles heavy across his thighs.

“What?”

He stares at Keith’s face for a long moment, not sure what to say. It’s tight in his chest. Some little voice in his head reminds him to make a note of it, to notice the pattern, to be mindful. That panicky feeling means… what does it mean? He swallows hard while Keith keeps staring.

It means he has to ask himself what’s the worst thing that could happen right now?

“I don’t want you to go,” he blurts out. Keith’s eyebrows twitch together, hurt for a second, then just confused. Shiro’s mouth clicks shut and he wonders what the fuck is wrong with himself.

“Where would… I go?” Keith asks. He makes a tiny roll of his hips and Shiro isn’t sure if he’s making a point or if it was involuntary for the friction.

“I mean…” shit. “What are we doing?”

“I’m trying to get into your pants, Shiro.”

He can’t help the nervous laugh that comes out, and he squeezes Keith’s ass. Keith cocks an eyebrow at him and takes his silence as permission to continue. The noise of his belt buckle gets his dick even harder, like a Pavlovian response to the hurried way Keith always wrestles it apart.

“Keith…” he starts to say, but then Keith’s hand is on his cock and he forgets what he even wanted. He sighs as Keith strokes him, then slinks off of him, down to his knees.

“Stop talking,” he whispers, and then he’s sinking Shiro’s dick into his mouth. He hums in contentment as he does it, and strokes what doesn’t fit. And Shiro… Shiro… did have something to say. It was important. But his bones are melting, he’s relaxing down into his chair, his head is falling back to stare up at the ceiling and his conscience goes blessedly quiet.

He holds the back of Keith’s head without meaning to, runs his fingers through his hair to hold it back, out of the way. Occasionally he looks up at Shiro, meets his eyes, and the sight of him there with Shiro’s cock in his mouth is so fucking hot. A few minutes ago he thinks he was stuck on Keith being _beautiful_ but it’s kind of on the back burner now. God, he’s fucking hot.

“Good boy,” he whispers, without meaning to. He pets Keith’s hair. “You give the best head.”

It’s only a matter of time before he’s going to tug Keith off the floor, spin him around and bend him over the desk.

“So pretty…” he adds.

Keith pulls off, breathing hard, and when he looks up at Shiro again he’s blushing. His hand continues to stroke but he slows down. His brow creases in uncertainty.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks. He only half means it, his voice still teasing. “You don’t like it when I’m nice to you?”

“Shiro…”

He guides Keith back to his cock, rubs his thumb along the outside of Keith’s ear as he lowers himself back down. He sucks hard, jerks him off, sinks down as far as he can. Shiro groans at the tight pressure of cartilage in the back of Keith’s throat.

“You’ve always been like this,” Shiro mumbles. “So weird about compliments.”

Keith pops off again, this time with a wet gasp. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

And… yes, of course. Of course. It takes him a second to blink the haze away before he’s standing, yanking Keith up by his biceps. He’s rough when he bends Keith down over the desk and he takes a moment just to stare.

He’s squeezing into Keith’s ass with his Altean hand, pulling him apart to look, when Keith squirms and turns to look at Shiro over his shoulder.

“Come on, Shiro.”

They’ve never negotiated anything like this before, but Shiro’s human hand cracks him across the other cheek before he realizes he’s doing it. He freezes immediately, feels cold in his stomach, ready to apologize as he waits for a reaction.

“Fuck,” Keith breathes. “Fuck, Shiro. Do it again?”

It warms him right back up.

He smacks again, and Keith rests his forehead on the desk, whimpers as his fingers press into the surface.

“You like that?” Shiro asks. He does it again and again. When he gets around to fucking Keith, he pulls at his hair, makes his back arch. He slams into him hard enough that the desk is starting to inch across the floor. “You’re a horny little mess, you know that? You want me to smack you around but don’t want me to be nice to you.”

He forgets to talk to Keith after. Even later that night when Keith comes over, they chill out in comfortable silence on Shiro’s couch, spacing out to bad TV, and it doesn’t feel like a good time to bring it up.

Keith stays over, wears one of Shiro’s shirts to bed. He doesn’t always spend the night and Shiro hasn’t taken it personally. They’re not trying to rush, and besides, he knows Keith is a shitty sleeper. They both are. Shiro has known this for years, especially having spent time in close quarters with him in space, but Keith even apologized for it a few times. Says he can’t relax around other people. Can’t fall asleep.

Shiro doesn’t try to touch him once they’re in bed. It’s an attempt to give him space, to respect his comfort. He stays towards his side of the bed and curls onto his side, facing the wall. He powers down his arm so the light won’t bother them.

But then Keith’s warmth is close to his back. He’s coming in, slowly. Hesitant. He puts his hand on Shiro’s waist and speaks against his shoulder.

“I do like it,” he mumbles.

Shiro’s heart jumps in chest. “What?”

“When… you’re nice to me. I’m sorry. I do like it.”

God, this boy could make him cry.

It’s a coincidence that he has therapy in the morning, and it’s still fresh in his mind when he comes in. She starts with the usual—is his prosthesis bothering him? How were his headaches this week? Did he sleep enough?

How are things going with Keith?

For a moment he stares at the painting behind her head and wonders if he should find a new therapist. Nothing personal, he just suddenly feels too awkward to talk about sex. It’s ridiculous that he should think it’s too personal—this is _therapy_ , after all, nothing is supposed to be too personal—but maybe it’s weird to bring it up _now_ after all these months.

But, fuck. Starting over with someone else would be brutal. All the backstory he’d have to go through. Jeez.

“It’s… a little weird, honestly,” he finally admits.

“Weird? Why weird?”

“I don’t know. It’s…” his face starts burning. “The sex is weird?”

Her eyebrow raises and she puts her tablet down. He waits for her to ask another question, to guide him somehow, but she just waits him out in silence.

“I mean, I’ve known him a really long time. It’s not really a shock, I guess. Just, sometimes I get this feeling, like…”

“Like what?”

He rubs his face.

“I’ve always known he can’t take a compliment, okay? I get that about him. And you know, like, not to make assumptions or anything, but I get that maybe he’s got some shit about his childhood and everything.”

She keeps staring and doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not judging,” he says, defensive of himself. “It sounds like I’m judging. I’m not judging. I swear.”

“I didn’t think you were judging.”

“It’s just, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell… how he feels, I guess. It can be a little nerve-wracking.”

Her head tilts to the side. “Can I ask what that has to do with the sex being weird?”

Oh. He feels the heat flare in his cheeks before he even answers. “I guess, I’ve tried a few times to…” he gestures helplessly with his hands, “be, um, romantic? And it doesn’t… really work. With him.”

“Have you discussed this with him?”

“Not really,” he admits. “We always wind up… getting off topic.”

She gives him a half-smile, knowing and warm. “Talk to him, Shiro.”

He doesn’t quite get there right away. He barely sees Keith for a few days, and then there’s another quickie at work with no time for conversation, then a double-date with Lance and Allura that doesn’t give them any time alone. By the time they get back to Shiro’s place, they’re honestly both so exhausted that they fall asleep on the couch.

Keith is the one that starts pushing them towards bed later. Shiro has no idea what time it is, but follows sleepily, lets Keith undress him and tuck him in. Keith holds his hand beneath the blankets but doesn’t come any closer than that.

“Keith?” Shiro asks into the dark. He’s barely awake, otherwise his filter would be working.

“Yeah Shiro?”

“You’re my boyfriend now, right? We’re boyfriends.”

“Yeah Shiro.”

“Okay,” maybe he should feel excited or something, more emotional, but it feels like a weight coming off. He’s been afraid to ask this whole time. The relief floods through and he sinks deeper into his pillow, feels sleep coming on. “Good. I hoped so.”

* * *

_Come over when you’re done packing :)_ , he texts Keith. And maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that Keith can have his entire life in a duffle bag with about five second’s notice. He’s at Shiro’s door three minutes later.

Which is good, because tonight is not a night for wasting time. He has his hands beneath the Keith’s shirt, on his bare waist, the moment he’s inside, mouthing at his neck and gently pressing him to the wall.

“When do you have to go?” he asks. Keith grunts.

“Few hours.”

Shiro smirks against Keith’s skin. “I’ll take my time, then.”

Keith goes tense as Shiro slows down. A couple months ago it would’ve made Shiro nervous, but apparently he’s making progress or something. His therapist isn’t so present in his mind that it feels weird—that’s a sign of progress, too, he’ll realize later—but her advice is starting to become hard-wired. He doesn’t doubt himself, doesn’t shy away the he used to. He accepts Keith’s hesitance without taking it as rejection.

“This okay?” he asks, gently grinding in, kissing softly at the shell of Keith’s ear. Keith looks away, towards the corner of the room, then the floor, but he mumbles a yes and curls his fingers into Shiro’s belt loops.

It’s not just the stuff specifically about Keith, and he’ll realize that later, too. Right now he’s just trying to stay in the moment. Things they’ve practiced for months in therapy are starting to come naturally. Staying in the moment, slowing down, enjoying himself. He kisses Keith on the mouth and wants it to be nice.

Last time Keith went on a mission, they were almost violent. Tearing each other’s clothes off. And it was hot, for sure. Shiro still jerks off to the memory. But it was panicked, full of fear and pain, worrying that they’d never see each other again.

And Shiro doesn’t want that anymore.

He tries to stay calm when he thinks about that stuff; ignoring it wouldn’t be healthy, either. He’s learning how to acknowledge that their jobs are dangerous, that there will always be risks, but it doesn’t have to dictate the way they interact with each other. The truth is that if Keith doesn’t come back, Shiro would rather remember the last time like this. Loving and gentle, important.

Keith hasn’t quite gotten that memo yet, but he’s trying. Shiro knows he’s trying.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers, and sucks on Keith’s bottom lip. He pets up and down over Keith’s ribs, savoring him while he’s still here, and Keith’s moan into his mouth is so desperate and frustrated.

A couple months ago it would’ve made him nervous, but now it feels like a challenge.

He guides Keith through the apartment, each motion gentle as he lays him down on the bed, starts removing his clothes. Keith keeps trying to do it himself and Shiro bats his hands away, kisses his stomach, rubs over his thighs. He folds himself into Keith’s warmth, trying to savor it. It will be weeks before they can do this again.

Keith doesn’t say anything, but he squirms. Shiro keeps trying, staying measured and slow, hoping Keith will calm down. He sucks Keith's cock and fingers him open, unhurried, massages him with his free hand. Keith keeps trying to speed it up, tries to roll his hips, fuck into Shiro’s mouth, but Shiro holds him firmly by the hips and continues to dictate the pace.

It’s a challenge, taming him like this. Getting him nice and relaxed. When he nudges the tip of his cock against Keith’s hole a bit later, Keith is blushing but he’s not so rigid anymore.

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro says as he sinks in. Keith’s mouth twists to the side and he’s caught between laughing it off and moaning out loud at the penetration.

“Shut up,” he whines.

“Seriously,” Shiro whispers. He touches Keith’s cheek as he says it and thrusts in and out. It’s slow and he hopes his body can speak for him, can spell out how much he fucking loves this guy. _Tell him, Shiro_ , his therapist is always saying, fucking constantly, but…

The thoughts clear from his head for a blissful few minutes as he rocks in and out of Keith’s body, overwhelmed by the heat. “I mean it,” he says. “You’re so—”

 _Fucking perfect_ , he would’ve said, but Keith surges up to kiss him again.

The heat builds between them, and the sharp sting of Keith’s teeth ignite something inside. It burns through Shiro’s self-control, the way it always does. Later on, he’ll at least be proud of himself for how long he resisted—this is the longest he’s made it so far.

“Shut up,” Keith says again. He wraps his legs tighter around Shiro’s waist. “Fuck me harder.”

Shiro can’t say no. He never can.

“You’re such a fucking animal,” Shiro pants. A shadow passes over Keith’s face as he says it, all darkness and lust and Shiro can see the points of his fangs as he throws his head back and gasps. He thrusts harder, both disgusted and aroused by the way their skin slaps together, the sound of the obscene squelch. The way Keith whines through it stutters out in a rhythm with the way he bounces against Shiro’s bed.

His nails dig into Shiro’s back and it flashes red pain through his nerves, pours gasoline on the pleasure.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses. He can’t see, but thinks Keith might have drawn blood. He grabs Keith’s wrists and pins them down against the mattress. “I should fucking tie you up.”

And fuck if that horny look on Keith’s face doesn’t give him away. Shiro grins and pounds into him.

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Fuck, Shiro—”

“Need me to tie you up cause you’re such a fuckin animal, baby?”

“God, please—”

“You’re such a slut,” he mumbles, and Keith is almost sobbing. “Such a cockslut. You’d let me tie you up so I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, yes, please—”

“You’d take it however I wanna give it to you, wouldn’t you? Such a horny little slut.”

“Shiro—”

“Wouldn’t you, baby?”

The way Keith is crying out, saying _Yes yes fuck please Shiro yes please right there right there right there fuck fuck fuck_ echoes in Shiro’s head for the rest of the night, long after Keith is gone. He showers, and then sits by the windows, stares up at the night sky like a sap. He can still feel the soothing energy from his orgasm, keeping him grounded, and wonders how far Keith is by now.

 _Progress_ , he thinks to himself, and chuckles into the silent apartment.

Keith sends him a dick pic a couple days later. Shiro has no idea what’s going on with timezones or night cycles, no way of knowing if Keith is jerking off before bed or sneaking off into a bathroom or something to waste time in the middle of the day. But the picture is clear enough. He’d recognize Keith’s hands, always in his gloves, even if he didn’t recognize his cock, but there they are. He’s squeezing around his cockhead and a bead of precum is gleaming in the artificial light.

 _miss u_ , the message says.

Shiro laughs and leans back in his office chair. He glances at the clock; has a meeting soon, probably shouldn’t play along too hard. Doesn’t have time to make a mess. But he can help out.

_What has you so worked up, baby?_

_been thinking abt what u said_

_What did I say?_

It takes a couple minutes for Keith to answer, and Shiro can’t help staring at the photo while he waits. He imagines what Keith is doing, pictures all the frustrated little noises. The lines of his throat as he leans his head back against the wall. God, Shiro misses him, too.

_are u really gonna tie me up?_

Fuck.

His cock strains in his pants and he reaches for his coffee, mostly cold by now. He takes a long swallow and stares at the clock again, and he tries to mentally work through his meeting notes to kill his hardon.

 _Would you like me to, sweetheart?_ he texts back.

_mm yeah._

He hopes no one will be able to see the glow on his face when he leaves the office, hopes he’s not too sweaty. _You want me to tie you down and tease you? I’m gonna play with you until you’re begging for my cock._

_please shiro_

_You gonna come thinking about that?_

_y es_

Shiro swallows hard and adjusts his pants. _Show me,_ he says, and he’s expecting another picture but Keith is videocalling him a second later. He feels the chill of sweat break out across his scalp and he sits up straighter at his desk.

“Hello there,” he says when it connects. Keith’s cheeks are pink and the picture only shows the shoulders up, but he can see the subtle motion rocking him in the frame. The hand holding the camera shakes and picture keeps going fuzzy as it tries to re-focus.

“I need to hear your voice,” Keith says. Heat curls in Shiro’s gut and he has to close his eyes for a moment to stay cool.

“I have a meeting, you know,” he says. “You’re gonna get me all hot and bothered because you can’t keep it in your pants for two fucking weeks.”

“Shiro…”

“Show me,” he says again, and the camera jerks as Keith aims it down towards his cock. He’s stroking so fast that the picture keeps lagging. He must be really far out there for the connection to be this spotty. Shiro presses his palm to his half-erection, trying to will it away and knowing it’s an uphill battle. “God, Keith. I can’t believe what a slut you are.”

The camera twists again, back to Keith’s face. His forehead looks shiny. Shiro tries to be subtle as he snaps a screenshot for later.

“What are you gonna do to me?” Keith asks, a little breathless. His lids flutter a couple times before he gives up and closes his eyes.

Shiro laughs under his breath. “When I tie you up?”

Keith nods.

“Whatever the fuck I want.”

The camera shakes and strays towards the ceiling as Keith comes. It takes him a moment to realize it, and he shows Shiro the mess without being asked. The cum is all over his glove, all over his clothes. Shiro’s face flushes hot and he cracks his neck, opens his meeting notes in another window to keep focused. Takes another screenshot somewhere in there.

Shiro gives him a minute to catch his breath, not trying to rush him off the call. Keith tucks himself back in his pants and aims the camera back at his face. Glassy eyed but sated. He offers a tiny smile.

“It’s been more than two weeks, you know,” he says softly. “For me. Out here.”

“Ahh, right. Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Shiro straightens up his desk and starts to stand.

“I, ah, have to get to a meeting,” he says. He sighs and unconsciously touches Keith’s face on the screen. “Text me later?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Miss you.”

He stares for a moment, long enough that Keith smirks.

“Did your camera freeze?”

Shiro laughs and starts heading for the door. “No, sorry. Just… got distracted.”

“You sap,” Keith rolls his eyes. He looks off screen for a moment, his attention sharp and elsewhere for a quick second, and then he smiles back. “Go to your meeting. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye Shiro,” he says.

_Tell him, Shiro._

And they’re in his mouth, the words. He’s taking a breath, ready to say it, when Keith’s face freezes and the picture flickers, and then the call is over. The app closes out and Shiro stares blankly down at his notes.

“Love you,” he mumbles anyway.

* * *

Shiro can’t cook for shit and he knows it, but he tries to make up for it with nice wine.

The stupid thing is that, to be honest, he’s not really good at wine, anyway. He never really got into it before leaving Earth, and, well. When was he supposed to learn about it after that?

Still, it goes down smooth. It’s just sweet enough. He holds the glass by the stem and swirls it back and forth a few times, mostly to keep himself from fidgeting too much. He watches Keith’s face for a reaction as he sips his own, and Keith notices as he’s swallowing. He freezes and raises his eyebrows.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

Shiro chuckles and sips his wine again. “The wine okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “It’s good.”

Keith isn’t going to know the difference, either. Shiro knows that. Still, it’s like an instinct to try to impress him. To dote on him. He deserves the best, even when he doesn’t notice.

He picks at his own food while he watches Keith eat. Keith must be starving and it warms that same part of Shiro that wants to dote on him. Taking care of him feels right, settles nicely in his chest the way the wine does. He isn’t sure if Keith was humoring him when he first came in and said how good it smelled. Maybe it was only because he hasn’t had real food in a while. It’s been two weeks on Earth but he’s not sure how long it had been for Keith. Either way, even if the food isn’t that great, he’s glad to provide it, to be the person Keith comes home to.

There’s this soft look on Keith’s face, sort of far away as they talk over dinner. He’s telling Shiro about the mission, a different version than the one he’d told at the debrief to everyone earlier in the afternoon. Shiro had come out to the hangar to meet him and walked him inside, both of them keeping stiff and professional as Keith and the other senior Blades had run the Garrison officials through it. To them it’s all about numbers and budget and lives and threats, but when Keith tells it again, in private, it’s full of personal details. Laughing at the dumb shit he got into with his Blade brothers, talking about some weird food he got to try on a new planet, describing the children they’d saved and how good it had made him feel.

It’s a lot, and he seems tired from all of it. Could probably sleep for three days. Shiro taps his fingers against the table, a little nervous. They’d texted about it after the debrief; Shiro on his datapad under the table during his next meeting, Keith already back at his apartment. He’d sent Shiro a shirtless mirror selfie from the bathroom to rile him up, and Shiro had only been half listening to the meeting while they texted about making rules.

They’ve never done it like this before, with a plan. They’d decided on a safe word and everything. It never goes like this.

 _You’re sure you’re not too tired?_ Shiro had asked him, right as he was finishing up dinner.

 _lol Ill be there in a few_ was the only response.

Shiro pours them each another glass of wine when they’re finished eating, to kill the bottle, and leans back in his chair to watch Keith as he sips at it. The conversation lulls into a charged silence and he considers checking in again, making sure it’s okay, but then Keith gives him a tiny grin and stands. He throws the rest of his wine back and crosses the space between them, graceful even as he gives Shiro a shove on the shoulder to push his chair back from the table.

“I missed you,” he says, and climbs into Shiro’s lap.

Shiro almost chokes on his wine and has to school his face. The idea of checking in flies right out of his head as Keith leans in to kiss him, hands planted on Shiro’s pecs. The kiss starts slow but goes filthy, Keith’s hands kneading over Shiro’s shirt. Shiro grabs him by the ass and squeezes along to the same rhythm, letting himself enjoy it for a moment before he pulls back.

“How long was it for you?” he asks, breathing into Keith’s space. Keith bites at Shiro’s bottom lip.

“Dunno. M’just glad to be home.”

It lights up inside Shiro’s chest.

Keith’s hair is still damp from his shower, his braid thick and cool in Shiro’s hand when he reaches to grab it. He yanks hard enough that Keith lets out a little squeak, and he arches backwards, bares his throat.

“Oh, now you wanna be all nice?” Shiro whispers. “You missed me and now you wanna be nice for me?”

“Shiro…”

“Maybe you just missed getting fucked, huh?” Keith makes a little noise in the back of his throat as Shiro squeezes his ass, then pulls back to grab his hardon. Keith wiggles and tries to look down at where Shiro is fondling him through his jeans, but his braid is still wrapped around Shiro’s other hand. “You’re so hard already.”

Shiro holds him there and stares hard, right into his eyes. He can feel the tension between them, feel how uncomfortable Keith is, but he’s trying his best not to look away. It always feels like this with Keith; like if he can just push a little further they’ll break through to something. It feels so close, so charged. Keith shakes in his lap and Shiro swears he sees a flare of yellow in his eyes, gone in a flash.

It feels like a challenge again, like being with Keith always does. Last time he’d wanted to get Keith nice and relaxed and it hadn’t worked—this time he wonders if he should try the opposite. Push harder. He wants to see that flash again.

He kicks his chair back from the table and Keith almost falls on the floor, stumbles as Shiro stands up.

“Turn around,” Shiro tells him.

Keith’s eyebrows come together. “What?”

He leans into Keith’s space and pushes the dishes behind him out of the way. “I said turn around.”

The time in the abyss gave Keith a few inches but Shiro is still taller. Enough that Keith has to look up from this close. He shrinks beneath Shiro’s frame for a moment before swallowing hard and complying.

Shiro doesn’t warn him before slapping him hard on the ass. The _thwap_ of his hand against Keith’s jeans isn’t as satisfying as he had wished, but Keith jolts and bumps into the table. It makes all the dishes clatter.

“Hands on the table,” Shiro says next, and Keith’s knuckles go white as he grips around the edges.

He rubs his hands over Keith’s ass, watches the way his shoulders tense as he braces for more. The little hiss that comes from his throat when Shiro hits him again is so satisfying, so fucking hot. He slips his hand into Keith’s back pocket, hoping to feel his body heat, but it’s not enough. With one hand he brushes Keith’s braid out to the way to kiss the back of his neck; the other reaches to unbutton his pants and shove them out of the way. He has to maneuver the fabric around Keith’s hard cock as he pushes them down to his thighs.

Keith’s ass isn’t quite red yet; nice and pink though, warm under his hand. This time the slap is loud, cracking through the kitchen and bouncing off the walls. It’s satisfying. He sees the foggy spots that Keith’s hands are leaving on the table top, hears the way he whimpers. Shiro wants to tease, even though he’s just as turned on. He alternates where he smacks, goes a few more times, tries not to keep a rhythm so that he can see that shock of surprise every time.

“Are you getting off on this?”

“Fuck…”

The next blow makes Keith’s arms buckle, and he moans as he drops down to lean on his elbows. He holds his face in his hands and rocks back like he’s getting fucked already.

“God,” Shiro breathes. “Do you act this horny on your missions around everyone? Do they have any idea you’re like this?”

“No…”

“Are you sure?”

Keith yelps when Shiro slaps him again. “Shiro, please…”

“It’s a little early for begging, isn’t it? We didn’t even start yet.”

He reaches beneath to grab Keith’s cock, just to see. Gives him a slow stroke down to the root.

They’d pre-negotiated this part, sort of. It had started with the texts while Keith was still off planet, at the weirdest times of the day. Maybe Shiro has been putting too much weight into in-person conversations, as if it’s something he’s forcing himself to do for the propriety of it. Somewhere along the line it occurred to him that maybe it was easier to say some of this stuff without being face-to-face.

Because they’ve been dancing around it for months, really. It’s been obvious that they both like it rough, but maybe neither of them were pushing it enough. Obvious that they both wanted _more_ somehow, whatever thatentails.

 _i get nervous sometimes?_ Keith had texted in one of these conversations. Shiro had been too polite to tell him it was 3am, but the ping from his datapad had woken him up nonetheless. He’d sat up for a while to talk to him, typing in the dark with one hand because he was too lazy to turn on his other arm.

_Nervous about what?_

It took him a while to answer. _idk. Its sounds stupid now that im saying it_

_It’s not stupid. You can tell me._

Shiro had no idea what time it was, wherever Keith was, and kept trying to picture it. Maybe it was the middle of the night for him, too. Maybe he was feeling lonely in the dark, somehow able to be honest with the safe distance between them.

 _“Shiro_ ,” he whines in the present, and snaps him out of the reverie. Shiro squeezes Keith’s cock and feels the way he’s dripping already.

“You’re so needy. I should’ve known better,” he sighs, part of the act, and slaps Keith on the ass again. “Little slut can’t be away from home for so long. I should’ve specified that on the mission parameters when we agreed on it with Kolivan.”

And then there had been the texts this afternoon, under the conference table. Keith sending a mirror selfie from the bathroom, half undressed from his Blade suit, the top half bunching around his waist to show off the cut of his abs, the V of his hips.

 _act like ur disappointed in me_ , he’d said, and Shiro had been trying not to tap his foot so much through the rest of the meeting. _itll feel better later if we start off that way_

“Disgusting,” Shiro mumbles. “Such a little whore.”

“Please—”

Shiro slaps him to shut him up. “Please what? You want me to stop?”

He rubs over Keith’s ass for a moment, where it’s warm and turning red.

“N-no…” Keith says.

“You want more?”

“ _Shiro…_ ”

“You want me to fuck you?”

His frame trembles and he nods his head.

Shiro keeps rubbing over him, hoping that it’s soothing, just to take a breather. His cock strains in his pants. He squeezes Keith’s cheek, hard, and then runs his fingers through the cleft, presses dry against his hole.

“Go inside,” he says. He pinches Keith’s ass again. Keith hesitates for a moment, his body rigid and unmoving, and it takes Shiro slapping him again to make him spring to action. There’s a clumsy scramble to pull his pants back up, to not trip over them as he begins to head towards Shiro’s bedroom. Shiro watches him go, pleased. “There you go. I knew you could listen.”

Giving the space a moment to breathe is maybe to build Keith’s apprehension, maybe to calm Shiro’s own, he’s not quite sure. But he lingers in the doorway when he finally follows, watching Keith hover in the middle of the room, awkwardly waiting for instruction. Shiro knows what he wants, has gone over it in his head quite a bit in the last couple weeks, but he likes the uncomfortable way Keith twitches there, unsure what to do. It might be pettiness, revenge for all these months Keith’s made Shiro feel uncomfortable and unsure. But it’s the game, too; it feeds into the arousal.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes?” he asks. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans into the doorframe, delighting in the blush that reddens Keith’s face. It takes Shiro raising an eyebrow in impatience a moment later for Keith to actually do it. And there’s nothing sexy about it, which ironically makes it better. He tears at his clothes in a rush and throws them into the corner. Shiro considers scolding him over it, making him fold them, but he thinks he’s actually too impatient, himself.

“Good boy,” he says, and comes forward. Keith melts against him when he gets close, goes pliant under Shiro’s hands. Shiro holds him by the hips to kiss him again as Keith grabs fistfuls of his shirt. Strange how he’s struggled with this transition from being friends to being lovers, but he knows he’s _missed_ this. It’s become normal. Having Keith in his arms like this feels right.

He almost says so, but thinks better of it.

“Get on the bed,” he says softly when he pulls away. Keith steps back and sits down at the edge, watching attentively, waiting for more instructions. Shiro begins to move towards the side table. “Lie down.”

He’d debated using real handcuffs; he even has electric ones stashed in the back of the drawer, the kind that can bind to his steel bed frame. But ropes made more sense, he thinks. He traces over them with his fingertips and likes the silky texture, the deep purple color. It’ll look good against Keith’s skin.

There’s something else, too, about ropes. This idea that Keith could get free if he wanted. Not just as a safety precaution, but something about the _trust_ there flushes through his chest. It plays into a feedback cycle, the trust and the power exchange makes all of this more satisfying.

He tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed while he pulls the bundle of rope, and begins to untie it.

“Get yourself ready,” he says. Keith stares at him and looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. His hands are a little shaky as he grabs the bottle and pours some onto his fingers.

This, too, isn’t particularly sexy. Except that it is.

It’s not that Shiro doesn’t like prepping Keith himself; it’s actually one of his favorite things. But this might play into his plan for the night. When he sits down at the edge of the bed to really watch it only confirms the idea. Keith’s apprehension is plain on his face, making him look young and uncertain. That’s exactly where Shiro wants him.

“Relax,” he says, and places a hand on Keith’s knee. There’s a little grunt of discomfort as Keith shifts, as he arches his back for a moment to position himself. Shiro pulls at him, eases his legs to open more as Keith reaches down to touch himself. “That’s it. You’re being a good boy.”

The pinch of concentration in Keith’s face begins to ease as he sinks his fingers inside. There’s still the embarrassment coloring it, but Shiro sees the way the pleasure creeps in. His legs fall wider apart, he tilts his head back into the pillows. The quiet noises he makes go right to Shiro’s cock and he wonders if he’s gotten himself in over his head, not sure if he can last long enough to see the scene through.

At first he just fusses with the rope in his lap as he watches. He thought this was going to be his moment to get it ready, to uncoil it. He thought it was part of the tease, to have Keith pleasuring himself while he set up. In his head, he’d designed this moment to build Keith’s uncertainty, his apprehension while he wondered what Shiro would do. But he can’t take his eyes off Keith’s body, can’t stop looking at his cock. So hard, and it keeps twitching in sync with Keith’s tiny thrusts into his own hole. It’s red at the tip, leaking and leaving a trail where it brushes against his belly.

Fuck, it’s distracting. Shiro wraps the rope around his hand as he watches, until it starts to throb in his fingers.

“You like being good for me, don’t you?” he asks softly. It’s a sincere question, he thinks, and blushes as he realizes it.

“Y-yes.”

“Good,” he puts the rope to the side, without thinking about it, and scoots back on the bed to see between Keith’s legs better. His fingers are so shiny where they breach his body and Shiro can’t help staring for a moment. He doesn’t have to see Keith’s face, and Keith doesn’t need to say it, to know how uncomfortable it makes him. He gets squirmy when Shiro stares, nervous and shy. But Shiro strokes up and down Keith’s shin, holds his legs open, doesn’t let him hide.

He’s… hairier than he was when he left. Shiro feels it on Keith’s leg, and sees it between his legs. It’s like this sometimes when he gets back from missions; it must be hormonal from being around the Blades or something. If he ever remembers it in a sober moment, when his brain isn’t so clouded and horny, he’ll look it up. For now, the idea of it just crackles beneath Shiro’s skin. It’s exciting. He rubs the inside of Keith’s thigh where it’s soft, pinches him, and settles in on his knees.

He hadn’t quite intended for the foreplay to take this direction, but he can’t help what he’s doing. His cock has its own ideas about all of it. “Be good and don’t come yet.”

Keith shudders as Shiro wraps a hand around his hardon. For a moment he stops fingering himself, adjusting to the new sensations, and Shiro gives him a light slap on the hip in warning.

“Hey,” he scolds. “I didn’t say to stop.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles.

He thinks he was supposed to tie Keith up by now. That was the plan. But Keith feels so warm and heavy in his palm, and he can’t stop staring at the precum gleaming on the tip. He lays in a long stroke and presses a thumb to Keith’s slit.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he says, and leans down to lick a stripe up the underside of Keith’s cock. He stops to suck around the head, until Keith is shaking. There’s a wet pop when he pulls off to speak again. “I didn’t say that before. But I did.”He shifts to hook Keith’s leg over his shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you to say stuff like that.”

The little tremor that goes through Keith’s body might be a cringe, it might be arousal, Shiro isn’t sure. But he sucks at his cock some more to smooth it out.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand when he comes up again. “You weren’t just saying that to manipulate me, were you? Because you want me to fuck you so bad?”

“ _Fuck,_ Shiro. _No._ ”

“You don’t want me to fuck you?”

Keith’s heel digs into Shiro’s back. “I wasn’t just saying it.”

“Are you sure?” he jerks Keith a few times, mouthing over the top half of his dick. “This isn’t some interrogation tactic you learned with the Blades? Telling me what I want to hear?”

“ _No_ , fuck,” his movements are stuttering again, and Shiro pulls back to watch for a moment, just long enough to see how he adds a third finger to himself. His legs twitch and squeeze together around Shiro’s shoulders. “I really missed you. I mean it. I fucking missed you.”

Shiro smirks at him and lets out a half-laugh before sinking down on his cock again. Keith moans through it and his free hand weaves into Shiro’s hair, holds him by the bangs. Shiro hums at the flare of soft pain that throbs through his scalp and Keith’s dick twitches in his mouth. There’s a spike in the taste, the sudden saltiness, and Shiro knows Keith is close. He holds him around the base as he pulls off.

“You’re not gonna come, right? I told you not to.”

“N-no. I won’t.”

“I didn’t even tie you up yet.”

He sits up on his knees and looks down at Keith’s body. He’s blushing all the way down to his chest, his pecs splotchy red beneath the body hair. It isn’t coarse like it should be; soft like fur. Shiro takes a moment to pet over him, tease him around the nipple as he feels it.

“Do it,” Keith says. “Please.”

Shiro’s cock is straining in his pants, getting uncomfortable. He kisses Keith on the knee before grabbing him by the hips and shifting him higher on the bed, closer to the headboard. Keith looks startled for a moment as he’s jostled, but the surprise melts down into desire, his eyes hooded and dark. Shiro reaches for the rope and loops it through the slats in the headboard before grabbing Keith by the wrist.

It’s the hand he’s using on himself, and he goes rigid as Shiro squeezes. It’s probably hard enough to hurt.

“Are you done?” Shiro asks, and waits for Keith’s weak little nod before pulling him out of himself. He’s gentle as he pulls Keith’s arm up towards the headboard and begins to coil the rope around him.

Shiro was right; the color looks good against him. He’s too pale, maybe. He’s always a little pale when he comes back from missions. The purple compliments him, rich like a bruise. Maybe later he’ll suck bruises into Keith’s skin.

Keith lifts his other hand to join the first, and he tilts his head back on the pillow to watch what Shiro is doing. His eyes are big and he looks so naïve, so curious. Nervous and excited at the same time. It’s sort of cute.

He pulls the ropes tight, crosses Keith’s wrists over each other as he secures them to the headboard. He flexes his fingers and shifts a little, like he’s testing the give, and Shiro isn’t sure if it’s out of habit from his training or if he’s genuinely checking. Filthy thoughts flare in his head, all the things he can say right now. He remembers how they talked about this, how Keith admitted he likes being talked down to. This would be a good time for it, Shiro supposes, but the soft look on Keith’s face breaks him.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispers, like It’s a secret that he’s breaking character. Keith blinks up at him, face unchanging, and Shiro gives him a shy smile. “Not too tight?”

The way Keith stares at him is suffocating, and the newness of their relationship feels huge again. This is a different place. All the ways Shiro gets him as a best friend seem far away; they’re exposing new parts of themselves now. It kicks in Shiro’s chest and he freezes in place.

This has felt frightening so far, Shiro knows. It’s felt uncertain and dangerous. But now it feels…

 _Good_.

He can _feel_ the blood rushing to his cock as he holds there, suspended and locked in Keith’s gaze, unable to read him but suddenly unafraid of the outcome.

“It’s fine,” Keith whispers back, utterly serious. Shiro blinks to focus and takes a deep breath, kisses Keith sloppy on the mouth and tugs his wrists to make sure it’s secure.

Even with his hands tied, Keith arches his body up to Shiro’s, wraps his legs around the backs of Shiro’s thighs. Their chests press together and Shiro can feel the warmth through his shirt. And, fuck. He still has his clothes on. He bites Keith’s bottom lip as he pulls away and sits back on his knees, between Keith’s legs.

Keith squirms there, unable to do anything about it. He looks up at the binds again and he’s wiggling his fingers, and…

“I know you can get out,” Shiro says. He backs away, smooths his shirt down as he stands up and looms over the bed. “But you won’t. Right?”

Keith shakes his head.

“That’s my good boy.”

He stares for a moment, admiring his handiwork. Keith’s body has a slight sheen and he’s breathing hard, worked up already. All pink and needy with his cock dripping on his abs, making a mess. He presses his heels to the mattress as he squirms there, and Shiro takes his time untucking his shirt, then unbuttoning the cuff at his wrist. He stares into Keith’s face as he works his right sleeve out from the edges of his shoulder appliance.

 _i get nervous sometimes?_ Keith had said that time. And after a few minutes of prodding, Shiro had gotten him to admit what was wrong.

 _i fuck everything up lol_ , he’d said, with a silly emoji like he was trying to lighten the mood. _i dont want to do smthg u wont like. its easier if u make the decisions._

And that was ridiculous, Shiro told him so and remembers it now. He likes everything Keith does. But he’d known there was more to it then, and knows there’s more to it now, too.

Shiro chuckles under his breath as he unbuckles his pants and steps out of them.

“I think you were lying to me,” he says. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and starts to fold his clothes, just to waste time, just to make Keith wait.

Keith squirms and the bed frame rattles against the wall. “About what? I told you I really missed you.”

“No, not about that.” He stays in places and reaches out for Keith with his right arm, reaching further than he should be able to. He leans back against his dresser and palms at his own cock as he wraps the metal fingers around Keith’s. “You know, when you said you were nervous you’d do something I don’t like. I think you were lying.”

He strokes Keith in a short, steady rhythm and Keith arches his hips into it.

“I wasn’t, what do you mean?” His voice is strained, breathing uneven.

“I don’t think you get nervous at all,” Shiro says. “You told me to come on your face the first time we had sex. Don’t lie to me.”

“Shiro, fuck—“

“Don’t come,” Shiro reminds him. He strokes his own cock a few times and then stands up straight, moves closer to the bed to hover over him. He tucks a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear and watches his face. “You wanna know what I think?”

His face contorts and he kicks one of his legs. “What?”

“I think you’re just a needy little slut. I think you just want to be good for someone. You want to be obedient and do what I tell you because you wantme to tell you you’re good. You just want someone to love you.”

Keith’s blushing to the tips of his ears, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look away, though. It feels like an admission. Shiro keeps his fist loose around Keith’s cock, unwilling to admit how much the size of the prosthetic hand gets him, and takes a deep breath to steady himself.

He’s only done this a few times, in private, needs to concentrate. Allura has been teaching him these techniques when he pilots the Atlas; she tells him to visualize his own mind as a physical space that he can arrange and control. She didn’t necessarily coach him on this action, but he falls back on her method. He feels the connection to his arm at the base of his skull and imagines the moving parts, tries to push its limits. And it’s weird how his hand comes to life, buzzing around Keith’s cock, and he feels it buzzing in his spine, as well. The hair raises all over his body.

Keith spasms on the bed and lets out a pathetic cry.

“F-fuck Shiro Shiro Shiro--“ he’s babbling. He presses his knees together and writhes against the mattress. “S-stop, Shiro—“

“You have a safeword, baby,” Shiro says. He comes closer to the bed, close enough to see the tinge of yellow burning into Keith’s eyes as he gets more frantic.

“I’m gonna come—!”

“Don’t,” he says softly. He grips tighter around Keith’s cock, up around the head, not even stroking him. Just holding him there, his thumb settling over Keith’s slit. He’s dripping relentlessly.

“No no no, _Shiro._ That’s not fair. No, no please—“

“Relax. You’re doing great.”

“Shiro--“

“Did you want to tell me more?” Shiro asks. He closes the rest of the gap between them and sits at the edge of the bed again. It’s hard to focus with Keith like this; he has to really concentrate to keep his face schooled, his voice soft.

Keith thrashes as Shiro lets his hand pulse. There are tears in his eyes. “Tell you w-what?”

“Be honest with me,” he says. It’s a strain to focus, to stay in the moment with Keith while also commanding the vibrations in his hand, and his mind goes so flat and serene as he gives himself over to it. “You didn’t just miss me because you wanted me to fuck you, did you?”

“Wh-what?”

“You missed someone being nice to you.”

“Please, Shiro—“ his hips rock from side to side like he’s trying to get away, and the headboard bangs into the wall as he starts twisting his wrists. Shiro’s free hand comes up to grab the rope where it’s knotted and Keith cries out in defeat.

“Stay.”

“Please—“ his words get all tangled in the frantic, heaving breaths. “I’m—gonna—come— _please—“_

“Not yet, baby,” he lets go of the rope to stroke Keith’s face with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

His whole body is starting to tremble and he shuts his eyes, turns his head to the side against the pillows. “This—isn’t fair. What are you—doing?”

Shiro laughs under his breath and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. HIs lips brush over Keith’s ear as he whispers. “Whatever the fuck I want.”

Keith’s back arches and he sobs against the pillow. “Please, I’m gonna— _fuck_ Shiro _please—“_

He comes before he finishes the sentence.

There’s noise coming from the back of his throat, wheezing almost. It occurs to Shiro that he sounds _inhuman_ , which seems ridiculous until it clicks that… Keith isn’t all the way human. The thought of it burns hot, tingles up his thighs, and he takes a deep breath as he lets the pulsing in his hand slow down. He lets go right at the tipping point, right before it would hurt him, and Keith’s voice quiets into a soft whimper. He’s panting into the pillow, still shaking. Shiro lets go of his cock and wiggles the fingers of his prosthesis, taking stock of the way they drip with Keith’s release. .

Keith twitches when Shiro touches the cum that’s pooling on his abs. He traces a little pattern, idly swirling the mess as he waits for Keith to calm down. He still has his head turned away but his body has gone limp, not straining against the ropes anymore. Less shaky. Breathing a bit more even.

“Baby?” Shiro asks, and as Keith blinks a few times and turns his head, Shiro scoops as much of the cum as he can onto his fingers.

Keith doesn’t say anything, just stares up at him. _i hope u fuckin wreck me,_ he had texted Shiro that afternoon. Shiro holds the hair out of Keith’s face and takes a minute to appreciate his handiwork. It’s always difficult to judge one’s own performance, but… he certainly _looks_ wrecked. There’s still defiance glowing beneath, like he can’t admit it, but he’s so soft around the edges, in such a haze.

The cum dribbles on Keith’s chest as Shiro lifts his hand and brings it to Keith’s lips. He actually seems shocked for a moment, the sharpness back in his eyes as he opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Shiro whispers. He dips his fingers into Keith’s mouth, giving him time to suck and lick. “Let me see.”

He pulls back and watches as Keith tilts his head back, tongue sticking out to show Shiro the pearly gleam of it. Shiro swipes his thumb across Keith’s bottom lip to catch some that dripped, then strokes him beneath the chin. It reminds him of petting a cat.

“Why don’t you swallow,” he suggests, and as soon as he sees the way Keith’s throat works around it, he comes in for a kiss. He plants his human hand on Keith’s chest as he leans in, the skin soft and damp with sweat. It’s not as frantic as before; soft and sweet, but Shiro can taste the cum. Cum, and some note left over from the dinner they shared. His other hand rubs over his own cock again at the surge of heat that bolts through his body.

 _I love you_ , he almost says when they pull apart, but holds it back. Not yet. Not yet.

“I didn’t hurt you before, did I?” he asks, and pets down the back of Keith’s leg to cup his ass, where his skin is still warm from being smacked. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Keith’s look of confusion is so good. He shifts, his shoulders rolling like he forgot he’s still tied up. “Um. No? It’s fine…”

“Are you sure?” his fingertips draw over the line of Keith’s jaw, so light that it makes Keith shudder. When Keith just nods to answer, Shiro stands, begins to walk towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks. And now he wiggles against the binds, rattling the headboard again. Shiro sighs.

“Well, you came already. I’m gonna clean you up I guess, and then we can get ready for bed,” he gestures towards the bathroom door. “Let me go get you a washcloth.”

Rattle rattle. His shoulders twist in a way that seems unnatural, and Shiro wonders if he’s about to work on freeing himself for real.

“Wait, wait,” he says, and his heels dig into the bed. “I thought you were gonna fuck me.”

“Oh,” he tilts his head to the side and does his best to keep his voice soft. “No, baby, it’s okay. You’re probably exhausted since you came already. We don’t have to have sex. Let me just clean you up and we can go to bed.”

“What the fuck is this,” Keith hisses, mostly at the ceiling. It looks like he’s trying to sit up. “Shiro what the fuck, are you fucking serious?”

Shiro keeps his body turned, hoping that his cock isn’t giving him away, that Keith can’t see how affected he is. “Relax, sweetheart, I’ll be two seconds.”

His hands are shaking a little as he steps into the bathroom and starts shuffling around, deliberately making noise. It’s his nerves, or the chill the bathroom, or his sacral parasympathetic pathways _begging_ him to do something with his dick soon. He steps away from the doorway so that Keith can’t see, takes a second to breathe and calm down. For a moment he actually considered grabbing a washcloth as if he’s going to take the joke that far, but he hears the bed banging into the wall again and peeks back into the room.

Keith is so fucking beautiful.

Beautiful, and _powerful_ , and he’s curling his body into some unnerving shape while his arms move. He’s not watching for Shiro, has his head tilted back to watch his hands. It makes all the lines in his throat stand out, the sharp points of his teeth. The sight of him makes Shiro stop where he is, just admiring, and he almost throws all his plans out the window when he takes a breath to settle himself.

The plans are actually perfect for how he’s feeling.

“Hey,” he says, and Keith’s body drops back into place as he comes closer. He presses his open hand to Keith’s chest, holding him down against the mattress. “What are you doing?”

Keith blows a strand of hair out of his face and just scowls up at him, not answering. It makes Shiro chuckle a little, and he waits for the tension to leave Keith’s body before he lets go and tends to the rope again, fixes where it was coming loose. He does his best not to look into Keith’s face, so far as to continue to fuss with the rope when he doesn’t need to, just to waste the time.

“Shiro,” Keith finally says. “Come on.”

“What?”

“ _Shiro.”_

Shiro chuckles and lets go of the rope, concedes to bend and kiss Keith’s forehead. They stare at each other for a moment, Keith pouting and bratty. He kisses Keith on the mouth next.

“What?” he asks again when he pulls away.

Keith’s leg kicks out, bounces against the bed. His mouth clamps shut and his eyes are stormy.

“Use your words, baby,” he chides. “What’s wrong?”

“Would you fuck me?” he surges up to kiss Shiro again but Shiro backs away, out of reach. “Come on.”

“See, here I am, trying to be nice to you. I thought you wanted me to be nice to you. I thought you liked it.”

“Shiro…”

“But you just need cock that bad, don’t you? I’m always trying to be nice to you and you always have to ruin it. It’s like you’ll die if you don’t get your greedy little hole stuffed.”

The way he squirms on the bed fills Shiro with satisfaction, even though he doesn’t answer. He chews on the corner of his lip for a moment, then blows his hair back out of his face. Shiro takes pity and tucks the strand behind his ear for him. He leans in closer to speak low by Keith’s ear.

“You came already when you weren’t even allowed to,” he spares a quick glance to see how the hair raises on Keith’s arms. “Why should I give you what you want now? _You don’t deserve it._ ”

He sucks at the corner of Keith’s jaw, right below his ear, and reaches to palm his cock. He’s still swollen and immediately jerks against the bed like he’s still sensitive.

“ _Please_ ,” he whines. “Please fuck me.”

“Trying to be nice now?” he slides his hand down and squeezes around Keith’s balls. “You only wanna play nice when you want something, huh?”

His whole body trembles and spasms as Shiro strokes down lower, then plunges his prosthetic middle finger into Keith’s hole. Still wet and sloppy from before, but _tight_ , tense. Shiro slows down, hoping he’ll relax. Kisses the side of his neck and sucks at the spot he knows Keith likes.

“Please Shiro,” he whines again, utterly pitiful. His hole clenches around Shiro’s finger. He adds another, his free hand combing through Keith’s hair as he pants and squirms. “I need it. I need it. Please. I missed you so much. I need you.”

Shiro knows then that he’ll be looking back on this moment in awe of his own emotional whiplash. Fucking with Keith and getting him to beg should only be lighting the horny parts of his brain, but the truth is that it gets him right in the heart.

Keith has never sounded like this before.

Even when they’ve been kinky or rough, even the times Shiro has fucked him within an inch of his life, Keith’s voice has never broken like this. He’s never sounded so vulnerable. Even though Shiro said it as a tease, Keith has never truly sounded so _needy_. It should be jarring that this version of Keith’s voice is so unfamiliar, but instead the _love_ inflates in Shiro’s chest, so full it almost hurts.

Keith is prickly even on the best days and Shiro’s known it for as long as they’ve known each other. But this… means something. It suddenly lays Shiro’s anxieties to rest. Keith being so completely pathetic, stripped bare, is the proof Shiro needs that Keith loves him back. There’s trust here that he doubts Keith has ever shown anyone else.

He pulls out, pulls away, and the look of disappointment on Keith’s face is almost heartbreaking. But Shiro kisses him on the cheek and pats him on the head before he moves across the bed to kneel between Keith’s legs. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pours lube into his own hand and strokes himself with it.

“Fuck,” he sighs, and has to focus to stop himself. He squeezes around his cock and breathes through his teeth. “You sure, baby?”

Keith struggles against the rope again, nodding and whimpering and trying to hook his legs around Shiro’s waist to lock him in. Shiro grabs him by the hips and yanks his whole body closer, stretching him taut, extending his arms. His back arches and Shiro takes a moment to sweep his hands up and down his sides, worshipping the dense muscles beneath his skin, the swell of his rib cage.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers again, to himself this time.

“Shiro please I can’t wait anymore please—“

“Shh,” Shiro says. He lines up his cock, notches the head against Keith’s rim. “Relax, baby, I’m right here.”

For as strictly as he always approaches sex with Keith’s pleasure in mind, he finds himself closing his eyes for the first few moments and allowing himself to _take,_ to become completely immersed. It’s been a long day and longer evening of waiting, of denying himself, and he thinks if he doesn’t take this tiny moment to himself to balance out that he’ll lose his mind. It’s hot and tight and everything he needs, and somewhere in the distance he can hear the way Keith is moaning under him, but for the first few strokes it doesn’t feel important.

It’s like a fog lifting from his head when he can finally _see_ again. His huge hands on Keith’s tiny waist and his cock going into Keith’s hole. He stares down at where they’re connected and the heat of it crashes through his whole body. He feels it in his chest, his toes, down to his fingertips. It even tingles in the phantom of his right hand.

“I missed you so much,,” he tells Keith again. He rocks into Keith’s body slowly, rolling his hips almost gently. “I wanted you for such a long time, you’d think I would’ve gotten used to waiting for you. But I missed you. I missed this.”

Keith’s head is turned to the side, staring off into space, his eyes hazy enough that Shiro doesn’t think he’s even seeing anything.

“Is that how it feels for you?” he asks. He massages one of Keith’s nipples with his thumb and Keith’s eyes squeeze shut, his brow creased. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“Yes,” Keith mumbles into his shoulder. He hisses as Shiro fucks into him hard, and hooks his ankles behind Shiro’s back. “Fuck, that’s so good, fuck Shiro…”

He indulges Keith with a few hard thrusts but slows down again.

“You feel so good,” Keith says. His eyes are still closed and his thighs go tight around Shiro’s body. “Fuck me harder.”

It makes Shiro laugh a little. He smiles down at Keith and continues to move slowly. It’s not the usual urgency as when they’re together, not the same sense of _need,_ but this is nice. It’s _good_. The warmth feels comforting, calming.

“Please,” Keith says again. His arms bend back and his face is still turned away, like he can hide. “Harder.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, baby boy,” Shiro soothes. “You knew this wasn’t about what you wanted.”

Keith whimpers from a firm thrust and Shiro grips him tight, thumbs hooking into his hipbones. He holds Keith there, not moving, almost overwhelmed by the sensation but willing to see through it to make a point.

“Look at me,” he says. He gives the command a moment to breathe, but winds up grabbing Keith by his braid, turning his head so that they can face each other. His eyes are still closed, mouth twisted into a pout. Shiro pulls almost all the way out only to slam back in, and when Keith still doesn’t look he slaps him across the face. His voice is more stern this time, “I said look at me.”

His eyes snap open, glassy and alarmed, but he’s still moaning and trying to rock himself deeper onto Shiro’s cock. “What are you doing?”

Shiro rubs Keith’s cheek where he’d slapped, reveling in the way the blood comes to the surface and colors it pink. Keith tilts his head into Shiro’s touch, rubbing into it.

“I’m trying to be romantic,” he says, and almost laughs. He takes a deep breath to keep his cool. He exhales slowly and tries to match his thrust with his breath. “I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow like you deserve.”

Keith freezes, his entire body rigid. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like a nervous animal, and Shiro leans down to kiss him. Softly, slowly.

He remembers their texts again, hopes he’s making the right choices here. _i just want u to be proud of me_ , Keith had finally admitted. Shiro remembers the sappy way he’d smiled down at his phone and how tight it had felt inside his chest.

_I am, Keith. Always._

He pulls back for air and pecks the corner of Keith’s mouth. Thefrantic unease is clear in Keith’s eyes again, but at least he’s still looking. The way they connect to each other feels like a channel opening between them, and Shiro feels so trapped there, fascinated. The world disappears for a moment. He swallows hard.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asks, fully prepared to cut the bullshit and go back to how things were before if Keith wants to. He can still slap Keith around and fuck him until he’s crying and they’ll have a great time, if that’s what he wants.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s enough of a pause that Shiro begins to pull away, ready to stop, but then Keith shakes his head. His bangs fall into his face and he blinks a few times.

“No,” he finally says.

Shiro sinks back in and kisses him on the temple. “You amaze me.”

They settle into a rhythm like this. Keith is quiet and Shiro would find it unsettling if he didn’t meet every thrust with a breathy little gasp. He isn’t struggling with the binds as much anymore, like he’s relaxed into it, but he keeps flexing his legs around Shiro’s waist to keep up. Shiro smiles against the damp skin on Keith’s neck, breathing hard and and trying to stay steady. It would be easy to slip into the old habits, to go hard. But he wants this. He wants it to last.

“You like this?” he asks, and plants his hands on either side of Keith’s body, pushes up to see him better. “You like it when I’m nice to you?”

He looks like he’s going to say no, but he nods. He’s biting his lip to keep noises inside. Shiro gives him one hard thrust for emphasis and he cries out.

“Can I tell you something?” he kisses Keith on the cheek, then his mouth. It’s tender where it’s usually filthy, and he feels the vibration of Keith’s moans coming through. They break apart, just enough, still breathing each other’s air.

“What?”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that?”

“Shirooo,” he groans and goes to turnhis head away, but Shiro catches him by the chin and holds him there.

“No, look at me,” he says. “No hiding anymore.”

The energy between them feels like it might snap, like it’s being stretched too tight. But it swells as they see it through, as he continues the languorous rocking into Keith’s body. Keith’s head falls back but he doesn’t break eye contact, and Shiro can see the tension cresting in his face. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he runs his thumb across the scar on Keith’s face and hopes he understands. _Stay with me. Stay with this._

Keith’s body shakes and moans as Shiro pulls all the way out, taking a moment to tease him. He uses shallow thrusts, only his head, just to see the way the sensation ripples across Keith’s face as his rim is stretched over and over. There are clues on Keith’s face, bits of his resolve breaking away, bit by bit. When he finally sinks all the way back in, it almost seems like a victory. All the strain melts away and Keith lifts his head to for a kiss.

And somehow, it feels like a first kiss.

“I should’ve known,” Keith mumbles through it, against Shiro’s lips. Shiro indulges himself a little longer before he lets Keith speak. “I should’ve known you’d be like this. As a boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his strong thigh muscles flex and pull Shiro in closer. “You’re such a ridiculous person.”

Shiro chuckles. He gives Keith a chaste kiss on the cheek before sitting back up. He hikes Keith down again, watching how he moves to stretch against the binds, and hooks Keith’s legs over his shoulders.

He thinks maybe it’s time.

The moment feels perfect in a way that’s almost unsettling. He stares down at Keith’s face to stay present, to appreciate it for what it is. And it’s weird that he has butterflies in his stomach, because he doesn’t feel afraid anymore. Maybe he’s just excited. Maybe it’s love.

“Keith,” he says, and turns away just for a second to kiss his knee. When he turns back, Keith is chewing on his bottom lip, barely holding all the sounds inside. “I love you.”

He doesn’t stop when he says it, but the world slows down. He sees every detail of the room in hyper focus, in slow motion. The stubble on Keith’s jaw and the blue light from his arm leaving highlights on his lithe figure. The flicker of gold in his eyes, the almost delicate shape of his face. And it’s more than that. He can hear an echo of Keith’s voice in his head. _As many times as it takes_ , he’d said. And _We saved each other._

And it hurts.

Not in a bad way, Shiro doesn’t think. But it crescendos in his chest, like it can’t be contained. He opens his mouth to speak again and doesn’t have words, feels like he might cry. And it’s a good hurt.

It’s good.

Most of the time, Keith acts like every time they fuck will be their last. And Shiro doesn’t want that anymore. It’s taken a long time to just _feel okay_ , about himself, about them, about everything that happened. Shiro doesn’t want to be at war anymore. He doesn’t want Keith to be collateral damage. He wants this thing between them to be loving and gentle. Important.

“You get that, right?” he asks. He reaches for Keith’s cock with his human hand, neglected this whole time but hard and hot, heavy. Leaking all over the place and making a mess. Shiro strokes him slow and gentle. “That I love you?”

He looks like he’s gonna cry. Shiro only feels a little bit bad about it.

“Y-yeah,” he finally creaks out. “Yeah, I get it. I know you do.”

“Good,” he says, and finally starts to speed up. “Good boy. You’re so good for me.”

He jerks Keith off faster, loving the way it makes him clench. He doesn’t say anything but gets louder. It’s not for show, Shiro knows that much, but he can’t keep it to himself. The ragged breaths he take begin to sound like sobs.

“Did I get my point across?” he asks. Keith nods and squeezes his eyes shut as Shiro rubs around his cockhead. “Wanna have fun now? Can I make you come? You deserve it. So good for me.”

“ _Please_ , Shiro. Fuck, please—“

And he could drag this out more, he could tease, but it’s starting to wear his own resolve down, too. He pounds into Keith and goes for his throat with his prosthetic hand. It only takes a few strokes for Keith’s face to go bright red, his lips getting dark and his face starting to swell. It makes the color pulse iridescent in his eyes.

“Come, baby,” he says. “I fucking love you. Come for me.”

He feels it and sees Keith’s tells right as it’s going to happen. It’s the way he contracts around Shiro’s cock and how his left eye flutters. The hard pulse of Keith’s dick in his hand. He holds his breath as he tries to time it, and right as it’s about to happen he lets go.

Keith gasps for air, audibly, and the yellow shocks into his eyes. Shiro slams into his body a final time and slaps him across the face. Keith’s pupils cut into slits as he does it, and Shiro sees the flash of it before he’s closing his eyes and wailing. And he’s coming then, again, crying out, babbling Shiro’s name, begging and incoherent as he shoots his load between them.

He slows down to coax Keith through it, shushes him and pets his face, drops his legs so that he can come in close and kiss him through it. Keith is barely responding, bending to Shiro’s whims in a blissed out daze.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Shiro says when he pulls away. He combs Keith’s hair out of his face and straightens one of his eyebrows. “I love you so much.”

Usually sex with Keith is electric, chaotic. Every time feels like the hardest time Shiro’s ever come in his life, and it rings in his ears afterwards. And this time doesn’t feel like diving off a cliff the way it usually does, more like tipping over an edge. When he comes it’s like he’s slowly overflowing, lost in ineffable warmth. It’s oblivion in the way sex usually isn’t; he doesn’t feel like he’s breaking apart at the seams; it’s more like he’s finally coming home. Like they’re not at war anymore.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He takes a moment, closes his eyes to just _feel_ , rubs up and down Keith’s thighs to stay anchored in the real world. Keith feels loose now, relaxed. His skin is so warm.

“Shiro…?” his voice is far away. Shiro keeps rubbing his legs but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Let me touch you.”

He nods, but doesn’t move. His nerves are singing, all over his body. It’s still reverberating, aching in his blood, and he’s not ready to come down. Heartbeat is thudding in his ears, uneven as he calms down. Heavy and thick and it was never as comforting as it’s become since he came back from he dead. There’s a memory floating out in the distance of his consciousness, threatening to creep in, of how it used to feel in the void, how it could send him into a panic that he couldn’t hear his own pulse anymore, but he turns over and over in the ethereal haze. It used to be harder to avoid those thoughts, but he knows he can evade them now, let them flicker at the edges and go ignored.

And when his eyes open it’s Keith.

Keith, Keith, Keith,

It’s always Keith.

He’s slow to pull out, gentle to ease out from beneath Keith’s legs. He doesn’t think he’s strong enough stand up just yet, but crawls across the bed to untie Keith’s hands.

Keith’s gaze doesn’t leave him the whole time. Even through the visible satiety, there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a determination, and the moment he’s free he sits up. He doesn’t even try to stretch, to work out any stiffness from being held in place, but immediately has his hands on Shiro’s body. Touching him on the chest, the hips, hooking around the back of his neck. Pulling him down to kiss, then rolling them over to perch on top.

He doesn’t say anything, but honestly, Shiro hadn’t really expected him to. This is enough. He doesn’t need to say anything.

There’s half-hearted protest as Keith tidies them up—Shiro is man enough to admit he caves because he likes seeing Keith when he’s feeling confident, taking charge, leading. He lets Keith wipe away the chalky layer of cum and lube on their bodies, lets Keith tuck him in.

“Thanks, baby,” he mumbles, sleepy, as Keith clicks off the lights and climbs into Shiro’s bed.

Shiro is simple. He’s reasonable. He doesn’t expect Keith to change overnight. Doesn’t expect him to cuddle in close or try to spoon, doesn’t think he’ll suddenly be immune to the anxiety he gets when they share a bed.

But Keith scoots a little closer. He rolls onto his side, facing Shiro, and they’re at arms length but he reaches across the gap to curl his hand around Shiro’s bicep. 

“Shiro…?”

Almost asleep now.

“Hmm?”

“I, um…” he shuffles and Shiro blinks his eyes open, watches him in the dark. “I love you, too. You know that, right?”

God, this boy could make him cry.

He bends to kiss across Keith’s knuckles, and his heart flutters in his chest but it can’t quell the peace. He’s still so sleepy. But this is a start. It makes him smile as his eyes fall closed.

“Yeah, baby. I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Say hi on Twitter, I like to post Sheith and cute animals!](https://twitter.com/kacyinthecosmos/status/1246014192836128769)


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